


The December Ceremony

by Pearlybj



Series: Decembering [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Fae & Fairies, Futanari, M/M, Mind Meld, Mind Sex, Or maybe xeno is more accurate?, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-03-13 03:47:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13562139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearlybj/pseuds/Pearlybj
Summary: Sometime between their second and third movie, Bro pulled John from the mountain of pillows into his lap. His hands traced soothing patterns in John’s shoulders and back.John squirmed. As the third title gradually came to a close, Bro’s ideas grew less innocent. The man dwelled on sexy memories and considered how much much better John would feel under him than any of them. Because it was John. He adored the little shit.Oh so gently, Bro spun him around and kissed his lips. John’s heart jumped to his ears. He hadn’t the slightest idea how to do this. Bro was patient with him, waiting for him to relax, to open up and melt into the contact.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Symachromatic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Symachromatic/gifts).



Few things were more uncomfortable than the sensation of a dozen eyes on one’s back. Blending in to the crowd was hardly possible while accompanied by two drones. They stood out from the statusless like lilies among clover, towering and elegant.

“Dave, I appreciate you coming to my ceremony, but could you maybe stop doing that thing?”

“Which thing.”

Oh, it was also rather tough to miss the symbol of the drones’ status.

“That fluttering thing. People are staring.”

Huge, translucent wings that sprouted from their backs upon reaching adulthood.

“John, my man. You know they’re staring ‘cause I’m a hot piece of ass.”

The other drone offered her input. “You’ll have to excuse David’s behavior. I suspect his errant movement results from a poorly hidden fear of small children.”

John said, “We get our status in less than an hour. We aren’t exactly little kids, Rose.”

Dave rested an elbow on his head. “What was that, junior? You’re gonna have to speak up; I’m a little far away up here.”

Rose covered her smile with one hand. “I am but a humble, law abiding citizen. Until you complete your December Ceremony, Mr. Egbert, I will treat you with all the gentleness and purity a minor deserves, not unlike a newborn kitten. Allow me a moment, and I shall prepare you a soft blanket and dish of warm milk.”

John shoved them. “You guys are such jerks! If you hatched two days later, our ceremonies would’ve been the same year.”

“I admit I wouldn’t have minded the extra year as a child. I quite miss the days I could traverse public spaces without attracting attention.” Rose sent a terrifying glare at anyone that stared at them for too long.

The other drone flopped into John dramatically. “Soon you’ll know our pain, Johnny boy. We can brood in manly silence together.”

“Geroff! You’re gonna squish me, you giant dumb. And what do you mean silence? You never shut up.”

Rose agreed, “You’ll brood more like old women, gossiping ceaselessly about the woes of dronehood and your aching, elderly joints.”

John looked at her, startled. “I’m not gonna be a drone though.”

The woman nodded grimly. “Perhaps it is better to be realistic about your odds. I believe the most recent census placed us at one in a thousand.”

Dave said, “You’re about as exciting as a worker’s dried up cock. Let us dream. It’d be rad as fuck if the three of us were drones picked by the same Queen, living in the lap of luxury.”

The younger admitted, “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I kinda think I prefer being a worker anyways?”

“What.”

 

“I really don’t mind having a regular job, but serving a queen sounds super scary. You guys will have to-” He waved his hands around “-you know, give them your seed?”

Dave snorted at him. “Sleeping with a smokin’ hot royal, sounds downright awful. I cry myself to sleep at the thought every night. Did I say cry? I meant whack it.”

Rose elbowed him sharply in the gut, rendering him unable to speak. She told John, “You’ve made it clear in the past you aren’t comfortable with the idea of sex. Please don’t be too concerned. Even if you have the genes of a drone, recall that the queens are very good to their retinue. I assure you, they wouldn’t make you do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

“Thanks, Rose. I guess that’d be better anyways. I don’t want to lose you guys.”

Though still wheezing slightly, Dave did his best to reassure his friend. “Hey, don’t even talk like that. Sure, workers aren’t usually friends with the higher classes, but fuck anyone that says I have to give up my main man Egbert over bullshit prejudice; I’ll go toe-to-toe with my own queen for you. You’re stuck with me for life, bro. Now, c’mon. You should enjoy your ceremony. It’s gonna be the shit regardless of what you get. You won’t be a shrimp anymore, and Rosey and I will have a sweet, little party ready for you when you come to.”

John gave them his widest smile. “Aw, you guys are the best. I’m really glad you’re here. Thanks.” He pulled them into a hug, earning more odd looks from the surrounding crowd.

When noon rolled around, a worker in a business suit gave everyone a meandering speech about their journey to adulthood. Then the drones had to leave their friend to be sorted. The next hour consisted largely of fidgeting and waiting in line. Though there was quite a bit of idle chatter, no one tried talking to John. Finally, he was registered and assigned a tumbler.

He texted his registration number to his friends before one of the event coordinators came to claim his things. After emptying his pockets and turning over his glasses, he moved to continue into the facility. The coordinator stopped him.

“Your clothes too, dear.”

“What? Can’t I take them off at my tumbler?”

“Policy requires we put them in your safebox with your other things. If you’d like a slip to cover yourself with, I have a few that are safe to wear during your Ceremony.”

Thoroughly embarrassed, John changed into the slip. He still felt naked; his chest and back were completely exposed. He supposed that was the point- if he sprouted any new limbs, they wouldn’t be crushed by the slip, nor would the growth of his spine be hindered.

The coordinator gave him a pamphlet and sent him on his way. John did his best to stare at nothing and no one as he navigated through the complex. Most of the other statusless were completely naked and unabashed, chatting away. A few climbed into their tumblers while he was walking by. He couldn’t help but sneak a glance, horribly fascinated as their bodies were swallowed up by the six sided vats.

After taking two wrong turns- he needed his glasses, alright? -he found his designated station. He tried to feign a relaxed posture while he read over the pamphlet, but a few guys kept looking at him, and wow, who needs to read these things anyways? He’d just… hold it so it conveniently covered the small bulge in the front of his slip. Yeah. Totally not deliberate.

Argh, were they laughing at him? He really hoped he grew as much as Dave claimed to. Stupid drones.

“Kid?”

John jumped, dropping the sheet of paper. He hadn’t noticed the coordinator coming up behind him.

“I asked if you need help. Were any points in the instruction booklet unclear?”

“Yeah, no, totally easy stuff,” John said.

“In you go, then!”

John let himself be guided up the steps to his tumbler. The construct looked rather old and the gelatinous substance filling it was lumpy and murky. He wondered how many Decembers it had been used. The tumbler, he meant. Not the jelly. Obviously they put new jelly in every year. He hoped. Oh man, it really smelled funny.

The coordinator prompted him, “Easy goes it. Try not to trip.”

He dipped a toe in. Maybe if he closed his eyes, he could pretend he was taking a warm bath.

Apparently, he was taking too long. The coordinator gave him an encouraging shove from behind, and he fell into the vat. Startled, he sucked in a breath of jelly, and oh fuck, there were grooves for him to climb out, but they were too slick for him to get a grip. This was it. He was drowning before his Ceremony was over.

Except the stuff was aerated. Right. It itched in his lungs, but he could still breathe.

Dave was a filthy liar. He’d said the artificial jelly tasted like jizz, but the stuff was absolutely foul. Unless this was what jizz tastes like, ew. Either way, John was really glad they used a protein substitute these days instead of a “donation” from workers.

His thoughts ran in circles of a similar vein until the jelly put him to sleep.

~

The blankets were exceptionally warm for winter and smooth as satin against the man’s skin. It was too comfortable. He didn’t want to open his eyes to the sunlight just yet. There was something he had to do in the morning, but it seemed unimportant when he was so cozy. What was the point?

 

Of course. How could he forget? He’d been equal parts dreading and anticipating his Ceremony.

John tried to open his eyes, but they were crusty and goopy as though with sickness. So were his limbs and lungs, now that he thought about it, his arms and legs… and arms and legs? Almost too heavy to move. Ugh, he was so dizzy.

He stretched his hands out behind him and bumped into something hard. Ow, ow, ow, that stung. What did he keep hitting? It was hard and tall with a grooved surface.

Right. His tumbler. He was in his tumbler.

Acting on instinct, John twisted his wrists and dug the sides of his thumbs into the ladder. Pulling himself up was about as easy as stacking concrete blocks. He fought for every inch, flailing his arms and legs behind him as he climbed.

His fingers found the rim of the tumbler. Another heave, and his next breath was clear of goop. He rested on the rim for a minute, then swung a leg out of the vat. John’s toes met the step. Before he could get his other leg under him, the first gave out. His stomach lurched as he fell through the air, blind and unsure when he’d meet the ground.

The sharp tearing sound hit his ear before the pain registered. Fuck, fuck, fuck, his elbow. He hissed and rolled onto his stomach, cradling his arm behind him. Except his arms were underneath him. Lord, he was confused, and hungry, and his head hurt. He was pretty sure he smacked his knee too, and he still couldn’t open his eyes.

John hear footsteps, quick and heavy.

“Sir, I heard a crash. Are you alright?”

He tried to answer. Nothing but jelly dribbled from his mouth. Close enough, he supposed.

“Permission to - to help you, sir? No, no wait. Please forgive my transgression. I’ll send for the drones.” Just like that, the footsteps receded.

What?

Not keen on waiting around, John kneaded at the crust over his eyes until he managed to crack them open and OH FUCK, THERE WAS SOMETHING REALLY SHARP INCHES FROM HIS EYES. John tried to back away slowly only to have the sharp objects recede from his line of sight.

Oh.

Of course they moved when he did. Those were his own hands. He had wicked pointy hooks growing from the sides of his thumbs. Further examination proved his elbows were unharmed. That must be his wing that was throbbing.

Fucking hell, all he wanted was the simple life of a worker.

“John!”

“We’re here, man. Everything’s okay; we gotcha.”

The crumpled heap of a creature was wrapped up in the arms of his best friends. He croaked, “Hey, guys.”

Rose set immediately to wiping the jelly off of him while Dave poked at his back.

“Seriously, bro? You’ve been an adult for two minutes, and you already tore a wing.” He pointed at a worker that was pushing an empty wheelchair. “You. Go grab someone that knows how to stitch up these flappy little shits.” John thought it was a wheelchair anyways. It didn’t have a back, and there were footholds on both sides.

“Alright, up on your mobile throne you go.”

Definitely a wheelchair considering Dave picked John up and set him on it like he weighed nothing, careful not to jostle his torn wing.

“Pff, you guys are too much. I bumped my knee, but it’s not bad.” John moved to stand up.

The older drone held him down by the shoulders, playing off the gesture as a massage. “Just sit back and relax, bro. It’s your very first day as a grown ass man. Let us spoil you.”

“Exactly. I want to see how tall I am now!”

Rather than deflecting like the other, Rose was firm with him. “John, take a look at your legs.” She slid his glasses on.

“I’m nearsighted. I could already see myself.”

“You are capable yes, but it is clear you haven’t taken the time to.” She sighed, voice going soft. “You haven’t grown any taller during your Ceremony. Quite the contrary, your legs have deteriorated to the extent of losing the ability to walk. I am truly sorry, John. I know you didn’t want this.”

He took the time to examine himself, really looking. His four original limbs felt paper thin, delicate muscleless things that certainly couldn’t support his weight. If his bones were plucked out, they’d be as thin as his wings. Wow, he… really didn’t want to think about that at the moment.

Guess he’d just focus somewhere else and never look at his legs again. Great.

John’s hips now flared out quite a bit, straining the slip. It was hard to say while he was clothed, but it really didn’t look like he grew much between his legs. Then there were his hands. “I didn’t know drones could have claws.”

“Fucking badass development there. I’ll think twice about starting a tickle fight with you,” Dave said.

Again, Rose reliably cut the bullshit. “Drones don’t have claws, John. Those are your mating hooks. They’re a universal trait among your class along with the loss of muscle tone.”

His eyes went wide at the implication. She continued, “Forgive my oversight. I didn’t plan for this contingency, and we were only informed as a courtesy a few hours ago. You are to inherit the fate of our society as a member of the ruling class, a Queen.”

Dave added, “Our Queen, if you’ll have us.”

“He only just woke, David. Give him some time to process things before asking about such a serious topic as his entourage.”

John beamed at them. Focus on the positives; he could do that. “Then you guys’d be around all the time. I’d love that!”

As soon as he accepted them, something changed. He knew his drones were there, sure as his own hands. They also both started muttering mouthlessly.

Dave’s comments were a confused mess. “Shit, did I just ask that. There’s gotta be some kind of rule, no serious proposals while ya got a wedgie. That’s ten kinds of uncool. Would anyone notice if I took care of that? Aside from Lalonde. I swear the blasted woman has a hundred hidden eyes, probably has eyes on her dick. She already knows the exact shade and brand of these ass-dick candy wrappers- err, my underwear. John’s too if he has any under that fucking sock monstrosity. Gog, his adult bod is hot. He’s gonna have a real badass scar on his wing too. Good thing it ain’t bleeding much. Why the fuck isn’t that worker back with some goddamn bandages?”

The woman’s quick stream of words was a bit more alarming. “-will have to do more research on the dynamic between elder Queens and fresh ones. While it wouldn’t be difficult for the more abundant fathering entourage to get out of mating based obligations, I haven’t encountered any documentation of our ruling class doing the same.”

Rose’s expression went particularly dark. “We’ll stall as long as we are able before taking any drastic actions, of course. Actions such as…? Such as cutting off his wings and thumbs and fleeing the state. No, no, that’s horribly stupid. Further maiming John’s limbs when he already lost seventy percent of his muscle density is not acceptable collateral. Is he alright? He’s looking a bit sick.”

“Rose, what the heck?”

“Pardon, do you need something, John?”  
“Pardon, do you need something, John?”

“A hug would be really nice. I’m not gonna complain about the wings, but keeping my arms and legs whole would be pretty nice too.”

Rose obliged without hesitation. “Of course. I’m truly sorry about your legs.”  
“Of course. I’m truly sorry about your legs. Such an awful thing to happen to such a sweet, wonderful person. This world is quite cruel, so readily stripping away innocence… Perhaps we don’t have to flee at all. Merely faking the production of infertile eggs should suffice. A tricky operation, but it might be doable. David and I will be blamed as John’s entourage, but there’s no need to tell him that.”

“Wh- but you just told me! Slow down guys, I can’t keep up when you’re talking at the same time.”

Both drones looked extremely confused. “Oh fuck, did Egbert hit his head when he ate shit? It’s always the stairs, tricky bastards,” Dave mumbled.

With one hand, Rose covered her mouth. She used the other to grab John’s chin and angle his face so he couldn’t look away. She asked, “Mr. Egbert, are your ears working correctly? Do you still have the ROYAL GELATIN COMPOUND SUBSTITUTE jelly clogging them up?”

“Oh jeez, I can hear fine, Rose. No need to shout. And there’s definitely still jelly in my ears. It’s super gross. I need a shower.”

Rose released him and told the other drone. “We’ve just discovered the first of the Queens’ well kept secrets. John can read our minds, or at least our surface thoughts.”

“That’s insane, Lalonde. Sci-fi bullshit at its finest, and even if it weren’t, how would anyone keep it a secret?”

He went on muttering- thinking, “Fuck, on the off chance she’s right, don’t think about John’s ass. Hot, newly plumped up royal ass, very fuckable. I rate it six hats out of nine, would rail into the nearest tumbler, occupied or otherwise.”

“Eww, Dave, no. I just spent a month in a tumbler. I’m not doing that in one. Ick!”

The drone turned bright red. His rambling thoughts went on. “Oh, motherfuck, he actually heard that. Fuck, SUP JOHN, I’m not thinking about asses. Everyone here has asses that are completely off limits even in the sanctity of my own mind, which just got a lot less fucking sanctified, my main man stomping around up here like a hobbit rubbing his dirty feet on my clean floor. Except it’s not clean, it’s full of filthy thoughts about your dick. No, shut the fuck up, Strider. You’re rapping to yourself, completely royal cooch free.”

Round the ring of roses,  
Pots full of posies,  
The one stoops the last  
Shall tell whom he loves the best.

“She. Whom she loves the best. It’s about Rose, not me. Roses, I mean, ring of roses. Fuck.”

John burst out laughing. “I don’t think that counts as a rap.”

Dave groaned aloud, “If any god is listening, strike me down with the plague. It would be more merciful than this pit I dug myself into.”

The other drone chuckled delicately. “It’s a shame my sense of reason is more prominent than my curiosity. Your thoughts seem quite intriguing, David, but I’ll respect your privacy and politely decline any juicy tidbits John has to offer.”

The discussion of privacy was indefinitely put on hold when the Ceremony coordinator returned with a doctor. John was moved to a private office and given a med cocktail for pain and several sutures. Then, a very official looking person- the speaker from the beginning of John’s ceremony? -came in, bowed, and explained the transition process for new Queens. Next, she introduced… a tattoo artist?

His entourage remained at his side while his wrist was colored and as he sat through a dull series of lectures, helping to alleviate the dread he was feeling over his new responsibilities. He could do this.


	2. Chapter 2

The only variation the man’s day-to-day knew was where he’d spend the afternoon napping. He was considering climbing up on the hutch with a cushion when his pager told him his magazine subscription arrived.

 

Had it really been a month since the last one?

 

Not that he was complaining. A fresh set of pin ups should liven up his time on the hutch quite nicely. Knowing there’d be a month’s worth of mail, the man brought the trash bin with him to the letterbox. One envelope buried at the back caught his eye.

 

Oh lord, he was in so much trouble. At the absolute best, he was getting a dock in his pension for ignoring the letter. He wasn’t expecting an official missive from a Queen! Worse, he didn’t even recognize the seal on the envelope.

 

Forgetting his magazine, the man scurried back into his apartment to read the missive. All of his neighbors were workers. Chances were, this wasn’t for their eyes.

 

_ Dear Mr. Dietrich Strider, _

 

_ Please allow me to extend our most heartfelt condolences on behalf of my Queen, His Majesty John Egbert. We are deeply sorry for your recent loss and hope we are not disturbing you in your time of grief. _

 

The man had no idea what he was expecting, but this wasn't it. He only ever knew one Queen that bothered with these sorts of gestures. Her death cut him right to the core of his being.

 

_ My Queen would like to arrange a luncheon with you and, given the luncheon is successful, discuss the opportunity to become an esteemed member of His Majesty’s entourage. _

 

_ I apologize for any offense this offer might cause in regards to your recent loss or otherwise. We have no intent to disturb you or infringe upon your period of mourning and would like to encourage you to decline or ignore this request if you are at all uncomfortable. _

 

_ Thank you for your time, _

_ Rose Lalonde _ _   
_ _ Hand of the Queen _

 

_ ^Everything Rose said. Sending you hugs :B -John _

 

He’d caught the attention of a Queen despite not leaving his apartment. The prissy shit even sent him a handwritten letter. He was going to get tossed in some archaic fucking dungeon for neglecting to respond.

 

Unless the option to ignore the request was genuine. Still, couldn’t risk it. The man promptly rang the number enclosed in the envelope. The conversation was brief; the man spoke with a drone half of his own age that nonetheless claimed to have a say in the schedule of the Queen and his Hand.

 

Feeling a bit dazed, the man was left to the silence of his apartment with not a luncheon on his calendar but “a hot minute to chill and munch on some pizza until my main man inevitably tosses you out the back door into a steaming pile of dogshit.”

 

~~~

 

Said pizza appointment approached at the speed of light, as things tend to when one is dreading them. The ruling class was entitled to rewrite the man’s entire life on a whim; it had happened to him before.

 

He took a train and then a taxi to the Queen’s… house? The building wasn’t large or elegant enough to even qualify as a manor, let alone the extravagant residency/mating complexes usually selected by the reproducing classes.

 

A ramp for a wheelchair led to the front door. Nestled among stupidly square hedges were a perfectly average letterbox and doorbell. He pressed it. A young woman in a sharp suit greeted him.

 

“A pleasure, Mr. Strider. This way, if you please. Oh, and if you wouldn’t mind leaving your coat and shoes at the door? I do despise cleaning the floors.”

 

That was a rather odd comment for a drone to make.

 

“Ah, excuse my terrible manners. I am Ms. Lalonde, or Rose if you prefer.” Damn, she was young for a Queen’s right hand. Rose led the man to a cozy dining hall. The man’s wing bumped against a low hanging light fixture.

 

“Do you like the chandelier?” Rose asked. It was a gift, handcrafted, though I suspect it would fetch a pretty penny on the market. Please,  _ sit, _ Mr. Strider.”

 

The man sat, careful not to touch the lights again. Off to a great start. “Bro is fine.”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“Haven’t gone by Mr. Strider in ages. Bro is fine.”

 

Another drone came charging through the dining hall. Bro recognized his voice from over the phone. “Hey, Rose. Did you put the pizza in? I completely spaced after-”

 

The young man ran face first into the chandelier, snapping the cord suspending it. The construct- already made from dozens of small pieces- shattered into hundreds more. The drone cursed and ran back out.

 

Rose covered her face with both hands and took several deep breaths. She said to herself, “Curse you, David. One of these days, I’ll have you flayed and hung on the front door.”

 

Well, this was certainly an eventful lunch so far.

 

A head peeked around the corner. “Did we get him?”

 

Rose sent a tired glare at the new arrival. “You did this deliberately. Honestly, John, why? How did you even manage to lower the lights on your own?”

 

“Trade secret! I also weakened the cord, hehe.” John wheeled himself into the dining hall and started gathering the glass shards with a broom.

 

Oh, mother dick, that was the Queen. In person and completely unannounced, he was sweeping- doing a worker’s job in front of his own guest.

 

Bro couldn’t stand with the glass dusting the floor. He attempted to bow from his chair, planting his face in the wood of the table. “Majesty, ‘m awful regrettin’ my late response to yer invitation. Sorry ‘bout that.”

 

The Queen didn’t sound even slightly angry. “Lame! If you’re going to be a suck up, at least apologize for the fancy lights you broke!”

 

Rose coughed. “Actually, David took the brunt of this most inane prank of yours. Our guest merely sat on the sidelines as shards of glass rained down around him. I’d have thought you learned the last time we had to stitch up a potential suitor.”

 

“As long as you keep picking out people as dumb as her, it won’t be the last time. Like this guy here. He thinks he’s a beaver, trying to eat our table.”

 

Bro lifted his head quickly. “Was tryin’ to- Forget it, lemme sweep for ye.”

 

John stuck a tongue out at him. “Nope. My prank, I clean it up. You sit right there and wait for your pizza. Which we still haven’t cooked, shit.”

 

Rose offered, “Allow me.”

 

She disappeared, leaving Bro the option of remaining alone with the Queen or walking barefoot over broken glass to abscond. He was right tempted toward the latter. The ancient rags were bad enough with their tantrums; he’d never met a brat so fresh from the tumbler.

 

But… something was odd about this kid. He seemed lively and agile in a way that couldn’t simply be ascribed to youth. The Queen was dressed simply in sweat pants and a loose fitting t-shirt, rolling himself around the dining hall and sweeping without a single complaint regarding his visibly weak arms. He didn’t quit or call a worker to clean up his mess for him. Not to mention:

 

“Did ye just try to drop yer ex-fuckin’-pensive lights on me.”

 

As suspected, Bro wasn’t reprimanded for cursing at a Queen. Instead, the small man laughed. “Shh, let’s pretend Dave was my target. Man, Rose hated that dumb thing. I should’ve done this ages ago.”

 

He cleared enough debris away to get within arms length of Bro and stuck out a hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m John. Thanks for coming all the way out here! Every other drone we met for an inter view, Rose made me travel to the city, but Dave said you seemed pretty cool about it.”

 

God damn it, he could’ve gotten out of the train ride.

 

“Was nothin’.”

 

There was a calculating look on the Queen’s face. Bro realized he had to make a decisive move in that instant if he didn’t want to be judged unfit. When he walked through the door, he merely wanted to avoid punishment and go home as quickly as possible. Something in this strange house and this strange man’s mischievous grin sparked his curiosity- and perhaps something deeper in the pit of his stomach.

 

Bro grabbed the proffered hand, his own dwarfing it, and kissed each delicate finger. As predicted, the man looked thoroughly unimpressed, so Bro said, “Name’s Strider, former hand of Janna Crocker, but ye can call me Bro. Nice to meetcha as well.”

 

Bro leaned in, attempting to add some intensity to his flat voice. “Ye remind me of her. Janna. Yer both little shits.”

 

The man’s eyes lit up, though he faked a pout. “Am not. And you smell a little like shit.”

 

Oh, John was hugging him. Why was John hugging him.  _ What does he do with his arms? _ Touching a Queen outside of his own was definitely an offense to warrant a few centuries of his bones rotting in those medieval dungeons’ chains.

 

“Sorry for your loss. It must’ve been so hard for you.”

 

Bro grunted. The fuck was happening. “The old maid was past ‘er fourth century. Wasn’t a surprise.”

 

The young man let go of him. “Still! Please let me know if it’s too soon to ask this of you.”

 

“What.” He stared blankly at the man.

 

John blushed and waved his hands around. “You know. Joining my entourage. That whole thing. Mating.”

 

It occurred to Bro to ask, “How recently was yer Decembering.”

 

John offered his wrist. He had a swirling blue mark- four or fourteen years ago. Twenty four if he wasn’t as young as he looked. “I was crowned a few years ago now.”

 

He whistled. “And ye haven’t taken any dick this whole time. The hell did ye do to get out of makin’ tiny people so long?”

 

“No! I-maybe. Rose is really good at stalling and talking people in circles, okay? Why did Dave tell you that? I swear I’m going to find something else to drop on his head.”

 

“The bumblin’ light smasher didn’ breathe a word. Ye sound like a virgin talkin’ ‘bout sex.”

 

John whacked him with the broom. “Shush, I am totally a mature man talking about manly things.” He broke down giggling halfway through.

 

Bro was certain it was out of line, but he asked, “So. What’s the reason.”

 

The Queen looked intrigued. “We interviewed hundreds of people, and you’re the first to ask me why. I like you!”

 

It was a simple statement, but Bro found he rather liked being praised by this man. Surprise after surprise. “Seems odd ye’d avoid it for so many years then turn around and go through this much trouble for a good fuck, ‘specially when ye can have whoever ye want as a Queen. Ye hate the thoughta havin’ kids, don’t wanna be dependent on yer drones while carryin’, resistin’ the Queendom outta spite, what?”

 

“Oh, not at all. I really like kids!” John leaned in to whisper, “And getting spoiled by Dave and Rose is totally awesome.” He considered his next words for a moment. “I don’t know much about politics. Does it count as spiting the Queendom if I really don’t want to do the dirty stuff I’m supposed to do?”

 

Rose returned with pizza and lemonade. She helped clarify how she had stalled for time, that John had a tiny entourage of two, and explained the man’s discomfort.

 

“Janna was like that. Did everythin’ I could to make ‘er more comfortable.”

 

The woman nodded. “I suspected as much after perusing your files. Then, of course, there are the benefits provided by your experience and physical mass.”

 

Bro snorted. “Stuff ye to the brim with cream on yer first run and ye don’t hafta go for another round for a few weeks.”

 

The Queen choked on his lemonade.

 

“I would have phrased that a bit more delicately, but yes. I believe that would put less strain on John. Is this an arrangement that is acceptable to you? We can further discuss terms and send you back to your dwelling to sleep on it.”

 

The Queen was giving him total control. It was enticing, especially compared to the thought of going back home to jack off on the hutch and wait for another Queen to forcibly enlist him. It was also terrifying-

 

“Yer young; yer gonna outlive me an’ yer entourage here. That’s a nasty commitment.”

 

Rose frowned. “We can leave any moment we wish. John would never force anyone.” Implied by her tone was the absurdity of ever wanting to abandon her treasured Queen.

 

While Bro was turning over the idea, the door flew open. Dave stomped in, yelling, “I couldn’t find the broom, so I picked up a new one.” He stopped abruptly. “The hell are you still here for?”

 

Deciding, Bro answered, “Replacing ye as pimp daddy. Ye haven’t gotten yer girls laid once this quartile. Profits are too low.”

 

“This is a joke. John, you tossed so many hot broads out like last week’s takeout. You’re keeping this douchebag?”

 

John hit Bro over the head with the original broom.

 

“Ow. The hell was that for, ye little shit?”

 

The Queen beamed at him. “See? He back talks! I’ll take him.”

 

As soon as he said it, Bro became privy to his Queen’s glowing satisfaction. The simple household with two supportive friends and not one servant was more than enough for the Queen. Bro was genuinely looking forward to joining them.


	3. Chapter 3

John quite liked having the new drone around. Bro was a great- and difficult- target for pranks, and he wasn’t afraid to return fire no matter how delicate his adversary. He was a valuable source of information and an interesting discourse partner for Rose. Dave clashed with him a bit but also exhibited admiration, almost unheard of for him.

 

Bro seemed satisfied. When the three weren’t pestering him, he worked on little projects. He never showed it, but John knew he enjoyed explaining his programs or his new toy designs. If John praised him, his surface thoughts were left bubbly for hours.

 

Rose managed to buy them another five months before receiving a formal reprimand for failure to properly service her Queen. With a grim expression, Bro announced he was taking John on a date that Friday. His thoughts betrayed few details beyond the intended outcome, sparking the Queen’s curiosity- and dread.

 

Friday morning, Rose brought John a selection of new clothing. “Looking the part can facilitate the growth of confidence. This is a psychology basic.”

 

“I’m not wearing a g-strap.”

 

“String, and that was David’s purchase. I suspected these would be more to your taste.”   
  


Rose helped dress him in white silks, a loose undershirt that billowed whenever he shifted his wings and boxers finely embroidered with a lace pattern.

 

“These look a little pricey.”

 

“Hardly. The material is synthetic and Bro did the needlework himself. We knew you wouldn’t be comfortable with anything running over the price of your dinner.”

 

“Holy shit, Bro made something this pretty? The guy with the felt dildos?”

 

Rose chuckled and helped John cover his undergarments with a stylish outfit that held some resemblance to his favorite shirt and pants. Dang, Rose was good.

 

“That strange man is full of surprises, isn’t he? I am certain this isn’t the last one for the day.”

 

Her next sentiment was delivered directly from her mind: a hope for John, that he’d have a pleasant evening despite his apprehensions and lack of desire. She also made it quite clear she had plans to get her reprimand overturned if John was too nervous or uncomfortable to follow through. She’d take down the entire Queendom if it was what he needed to be happy, and she knew she’d have Dave and Bro’s wholehearted support.

 

Noon rolled around. John wheeled himself to the front door and was promptly scooped from his chair by his date.

 

“Sorry, sweetheart. Can’t have ye tiring out yer arms. Yer gonna need yer strength later. ‘M carryin’ ye today.”

 

Bro had no trouble swinging around all sixty-two pounds of the Queen’s body. John blushed. He felt like a doll being carried so delicately. Bro evidently thought similarly of him, albeit recognizing his fiery demeanor.

 

The drone drove them away from the city. Curious. John caught a glimpse of their destination from the man’s mind.

 

“We’re going to a private airstrip? Flying?! That seems kind of fancy for a date.”

 

Bro shrugged. “Pretty damn sure yer gonna change yer mind when we get there.”  _ Home _ echoed from his head. More and more curious.

 

It turned out Bro owns a jet, a real airplane. Janna left him nearly a third of her assets in her will, a lot even for a Queen. They flew south, arriving in the big city at 3. Bro took him around the standard tourist sites. John complained of hunger, but Bro walked right past every restaurant, not stopping until they reached a two star burger joint.

 

“We flew across the country for this? You’re so weird.”

 

“Heard they have decent burgers.” The drone’s mind betrayed more of his motivation. This was Bro’s favorite diner as a teen, the place he would’ve loved to take his first boyfriend if he had the chance.

 

Wow. The man went 2,000 miles out of his way just so he could treat John like a regular guy. That was completely ass backwards and also really sweet.

 

The other guests at the diner were acting really weird. That is to say, they were acting totally normal, ignoring the Queen and his drone completely.

 

“DID YOU CLAW YOUR HEARDUCTS OUT? I ASKED WHAT THE FUCK YOU WANT.”

 

After placing his order, John whispered, “I can’t believe he was so rude!”

 

Bro waved it off. “We’re roleplayin’ regular dudes tonight. Shitty waiters are rude to regular dudes.”

 

“Even if we’re pretending, he can still tell I’m… like this.”

 

“He’s roleplayin’ too.”

 

John blinked. “You paid off our waiter to swear at me. Holy shit, you’re the best.”   
  


Under the praise, Bro grew just flustered enough to let his thoughts slip. Not only was the waiter bought, so were the rest of the guests, the staff, and the diner itself. Plus… a shitty hotel?

 

“Are you serious? You bought me a hotel? Not just a room, the whole thing!” John was practically bouncing in his seat.

 

“Fuck. That was s’posed to be a surprise.”   
  


John grinned at him, chest light. “That’s honestly the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me, wow.  _ Except, oh god, eww. _ They have a lice problem? You could’ve picked anywhere for us to stay.”

 

“Took care of the lice already. ‘Sides, the Shittyatt Hotel’s where I worked my first job, before my Decemberin’. Always thought ‘bout sneakin’ a lover in the back door with my key. Couldn’ afford to pay for a room.”

 

Unsure whether to laugh or thank him, John said, “That’s so… Wow. Totally stupid and really, really nice. Thank you!”

 

The waiter slammed their tray of food on the table. “ENJOY YOUR LUMPS OF MEAT, FUCKHEADS.” When he turned around, John snuck a sign on his back reading ‘kiss me’.

 

“Usually those say ‘kick me’.”

 

“Yeah, but he looks kind of sad.”

 

The meal was carefree and wonderfully mundane. After they were finished, they stopped at the Q-mart. John was encouraged to pick out whatever DVDs and snacks caught his eye for a movie night.

 

Bro wasn’t exaggerating. They took a cab to the hotel and snuck in the back door. They ducked into the laundry room and approached a statusless staff member.

 

“Sup, Kan. Reckon’ ye could swipe me a master key? I picked up a hot date at the bar, thought he might like some alone time. I’ll owe ye one.”

 

“Just This Once, Strider, And I Do Intend To Call In This Favor Another Time.” She passed Bro a key.

 

Despite the fact that they were supposedly breaking and entering, the large bed was already occupied by a suitcase Bro sent ahead and a small note informing them the extra pillows they asked for are in the closet.

 

Bro said, “If yer still feelin’ up for it after movies we gotta few options: I can do ye real slow right here in bed, make ye feel nice. O’erwise, we can take care of ye anywhere in the hotel. There’s a piano in the ballroom, and they’ve got a fancy ass jacuzzi. Nothin’ more relaxin’ than the hot water.”

 

“What- but the other guests-”

 

“Aren’t any. Kicked ‘em all out for the weekend. Didn’t want to deal with any pests when I’m s’posed to be treatin’ you.”

 

“Oh. That might be okay then. Nice and warm at least.”

 

Sometime between their second and third movie, Bro pulled John from the mountain of pillows into his lap. His mass engulfed the Queen. His hands traced soothing patterns in John’s shoulders and back.

 

The thoughts the large man was projecting gradually became more blurred. He gave off tones of satisfaction, how much he enjoyed John’s company, the appreciation he had for the tiny creature’s high energy and impish tricks, countered by his gentleness and consideration: things he usually hid even from himself in his maze-like mind.

 

John squirmed. As the third title gradually came to a close, Bro’s ideas grew less innocent. The man dwelled on sexy memories and considered how much much better John would feel under him than any of them. Because it was  _ John. _ He adored the little shit.

 

It was oh-so-very clear Bro would find it satisfying, emotionally and physically, if he could help make John more comfortable with himself- especially if the Queen enjoyed his drone. The thought had John blushing furiously. The older man made the whole affair sound quite pleasant- certainly not scary.

 

Bro’s lips were on his neck, hot breath curling around his ear. “This okay?”

 

“I- yeah, I think so.”   
  


Oh so gently, Bro spun him around and kissed his lips. John’s heart jumped to his ears. He hadn’t the slightest idea how to do this. Bro was patient with him, waiting for him to relax, to open up and melt into the contact.

 

And he did. John melted as surely as sugar in fresh cocoa, and twice as sweet.

 

He felt silly for missing it before: how dreamy this large man was. John still didn’t desire him, but… his hair and his face were nice to the touch. He was so thorough, and his kisses were shifting from pleasantly cool to fiery, encouraged by John’s clumsy attempt to reciprocate.

 

The Queen broke the kiss. “Would you mind helping me change? Into my night wear?”

 

Lust flooded Bro’s mind, directed by an undercurrent of need- the need to please John, to claim the pixie-like creature as his own. He nodded. His fingers ran every which way as he teased off their outer wear. His eyes roamed as much as his hands, admiring John in his handiwork.

 

“Mmm, lookin’ real delectable.”

 

John shifted, embarrassed. All of this attention was getting him excited, and Bro did  _ not _ design these things to hide a boner. “We might… need that jacuzzi too.”

 

Bro swept him up and enthusiastically kissed him, peppering his face while carrying him to the bathroom.

 

“Grab those towels for me, will ye? My hands are full with a hot piece of ass.”

 

“Shuddup,” John giggled.

 

Loot claimed, Bro brought his prize to the other side of the hotel. A pair of fizzy sodas with ice were waiting for them beside the whirlpool along with a small box.

 

“When did you-”

 

Bro winked at his Queen, wearing a rare, smug grin. “Planned ahead. Wanna soak yer toes for a bit?”

 

John nodded. He was placed so they sat side-by-side. He leaned into Bro. “Thanks for doing all this.”

 

“No prob, Angelface.”

 

His tone lacked any sincerity, but his underlying intent showed more genuine feelings. In Bro’s opinion, his Queen was more than worth the effort. That ever-present smile was a treasure the man was determined to preserve. John’s wild hair and innocently tame jokes left him flustered despite his age. He meshed with the other neatly as gears.

 

I’m fallin’ for ye.

 

John realized that last bit was spoken aloud. He scrambled for a response. “Wow, I- I don’t-”

 

“S’ fine. Ye don’t hafta say anythin’. Just let me take care of ye, yeah?”

 

“Sounds nice.”

 

“Don’t wanna get yer pretty lace wet. If yer chill, we can start there.”

 

The Queen nodded, swallowing his nerves. His feet were patted dry. Bro lifted him and slid off his boxers. Next went the undershirt. Bro took his time with it, dragging his fingers over John’s back and wings until it was free. His own garments joined them in a neatly folded little pile. And Rose thought the guy would be a slob.

 

Both men were raw with anticipation. The older held off for just a moment more, instead handing the little box to John. “Open ‘er up.”

 

He looked it over, trying not to be too sheepish about their state of undress. Sure, all his drones had helped him change before, but that was strictly business! And he’d never seen Bro naked. The man could’ve been painted; he was indisputably gorgeous even if one wasn’t attracted to the rough figure drones had, all corded muscle and glowing skin. Drawing John’s eyes were a pair of marks on the outside of the man’s hips, jagged circles of scar tissue with a permanent bruise-like tone.

 

“Ain’t gonna bite. Can’t promise I didn’t rig it to explode, though.”

 

John stuck his tongue out. “You didn’t! Copying the prank I pulled on you would be lame.”

 

“Lame or contrarian? Only one way to be sure.”

 

He opened it. Nestled inside was a delicate chain braided with ribbon. A small, gold teardrop hung from the center.

 

John stared at it in confusion. “Jewelry?”

 

“ ‘S a choker.” Bro lifted it from the box and fastened it around John’s neck. He spoke too quietly to hear, forcing John to focus on his thoughts. “I belong to ye, if ye ask any of the old crackpots that run this world.” Was never one for rules. As far as I’m concerned, you’re all mine.

 

John shivered. All the heat behind the man’s words was caught by the choker like a net, causing him to flush from collar to ear.

 

“Feelin’ ready?”

 

John half-nodded, ducking his head. He couldn’t bring himself to meet the man’s eyes. The claim to his head was beyond inappropriate for his status and out-of-line for anyone that cared about his discomfort in the bedroom, so why did it make him so noticeably aroused?

 

“We ain’t in the bedroom,” Bro said, as though he was the mind reader. “Yet I’m still picturin’ ye sprawled out under me, rockin’ the mattress.”

 

There was a vivid image to go with his words. It wasn’t the hotel bed; it was Bro’s bed back at home. John saw himself, alternating between a carefree grin and a pleasured pursing of his lips, his body pressing against Bro’s as his back arched.

 

Bro kept the image in mind as he slid into the water. He offered his hands to his Queen. John answered with a string of nonsense, too flustered for anything more coherent. He took the man’s hands and was pulled in.

 

The water made his body light. He was able to hug himself to Bro without assistance. His arms wrapped round bare skin, and his lips found a rough mouth.

 

The drone guided him through a kiss expertly, maintaining composure even as John scrabbled at him. He dragged his calluses over John’s thighs. The nonsense words became a whine when Bro pulled his knees apart and fit him around the drone’s hips.

 

John really liked the look on the man’s face, but he couldn’t keep his eyes open. He was drowned by the sensation of hot water against them, of Bro dragging their bodies across each other. The man’s cock slid down his own, then under it, the tip finding the lip of his sagi. He could no longer tell whether the desire was his own, Bro’s, or both.

 

John begged, “H- Please.”   
  


“Anythin’ ye need.”

 

Bro slid into him. Oh, it felt so good. John bit down on more needy sounds. The man chuckled and kissed his head. “Still good?”

 

“Mmmm.”

 

Bro pulled them back against the side of the jacuzzi for more leverage, then swished his hips. John felt the man’s cock deep in his proxi, and fuck, it was so much better than anything he could do with his fingers.

 

The Queen hadn’t the slightest idea how to move himself with Bro, but it didn’t matter. The other took hold of his body and led him through increasingly desperate thrusts. He never imagined he’d feel so much being fucked like this and, “F-fuck!” he needed to keep Bro like this forever.

 

Instinct overriding his motions, John grabbed onto Bro’s waist, hard. His mating hooks pricked the skin there, injecting a gratifying stimulant, and he locked his elbows so the man couldn’t slide out of him. Bro reacted with a flaring of his pupils and one final, mindless thrust.

 

The drone was completely overcome by pleasure, body wracking. He released himself into John, letting go of so much, too much to bear. The Queen’s body reacted, proxi contracting to take in the load. In that moment, John lived for nothing but the heat and the sensation of his lover in him. His orgasm was tenfold more intense when he could also feel Bro’s, feel the drunken haze over the man. It left him quaking; his head would’ve slid under the water if Bro wasn’t holding him up.

 

They remained like that for several long, blissed out moments. Bro ran his fingers through the other’s hair, whispering praise.

 

The drone started coughing. “John, take yer stingers out. Feels good, but I can’t- fuck- don’t want the drug.”

 

“Oh. Oh, sorry! I was warned about the hooks after my Ceremony. I guess I forgot. Are you alright?”

 

He grunted. “Mhm. Don’ apologize. Ye were so good.”

 

“Heh. I think that was mostly you.”

 

The drone didn’t bother with a response, instead hitting John with a wave of satisfaction. He meant precisely what he said, for once. Bro started to lift them from the water.

 

John protested, “It feels nice. Sit with me for a bit?”

 

“Yer exhausted.”

 

“Shhh, so are you. Your legs-”

 

Seeping from the cracks in Bro’s mind was a weakness in his knees left from the stings. He grunted, “A’ight. Can’t risk droppin’ ye I spose.”

 

The drone, already wrapped around the smaller frame, hugged his Queen closer. He nestled his chin in a mop of wet hair. He then made a trail over John’s back with his knuckles, massaging the thin muscles.

 

There were a few moments that a panic tried to seep in as they rested there. Each time, Bro made clumsy reassurances, largely meaningless or unrelated to John’s actual worries. It should’ve made things worse, all the different complications the drone’s mind produced, things John wouldn’t think of if he mulled it over for ten years. But… it didn’t? His friends and tiny entourage was stubborn beyond belief, reliable too. Their faces swam in his vision, and he fell asleep right there in the water.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave me some keyspams yo <3 PBJ


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